Seduction on the Train (Travel Gal Erotica) Read Online Free Page A

finger out of her and brought it to his lips, sucking it as though it were a swizzle stick.
     
    “Oh, no,” he answered.  “You’ve not seen anything yet, Leila.  And I’d kindly ask you to remove your hand from my crotch now.  I wanted to show you how turned on I am, but, really, this is all about you.  I can wait.”
     
    Leila felt as though she could no longer wait.  She felt as though she had waited her whole life for this.  This was the pinnacle of her existence, this moment, in this dining car, with this man.  It simply did not get better.
     
    Or did it?
     
    The wine was brought and as the waiter uncorked the bottle, Leila’s stirrings increased as well.  Joseph’s hand had returned and his middle finger was working like a corkscrew of its own; she was becoming progressively more undone herself.
     
    “Since madam did the ordering would she care to sample the wine?” the waiter asked, pouring a smattering into her glass.
     
    “Yes, of course.”
     
    As she picked up the glass by its stem, Joseph plunged his finger inside her once again, fully erect.  She gasped as she swallowed.
     
    “To your satisfaction, madam?”
     
    “Oh, yes,” she breathed and straightened up in her seat, every muscle tensed, ready to orgasm at that moment.
     
    Joseph just gazed at her unflinchingly, smiling.  Not once had he looked upon the waiter or taken his eyes off her face.
     
    When the waiter left, Joseph said, “Unbutton your sweater, Leila.”
     
    She obliged, but only just.  One button.  Two buttons.
     
    “ All the buttons, Leila.  That’s right,” he said.  The waiter was just bringing their soup as she was finishing the job.  She flushed even more deeply.  Joseph’s hand was now resting on the outside of her pussy, petting it very lightly.  She felt as though she were treading water, wishing desperately for any part of him to enter her, but being driven mad by desire just by the slightest pressure of his hand.
     
    The other hand was placed on top of the table, drumming it.  Whether the waiter recognized anything was going on at all, he gave no indication.
     
    He took their meal order and removed himself, leaving them all to themselves in the crowded, boisterous room with just the candle glow to illuminate their faces.
     
    “Look at you,” Joseph said, removing his hand from her altogether and picking up his soupspoon.  “I’m afraid that is all I shall be able to do for the next little while.  Regrettably I require both of my hands to eat my meal.”
     
    “I’m not sure I can wait,” she answered breathlessly.  “Can we skip dinner?”  (Something she had never said in her life.)
     
    “Absolutely not,” he answered sternly.  “Waiting is essential to our pleasure.  You will see.  And, besides, you need your sustenance.”
     
    And so they had their creamy wild mushroom soup and crusty French bread.  The dining car was becoming more crowded.  Their table easily fitted four and there had been a sign notifying diners that they might be asked to share their table at busy hours.  Just after their lobsters arrived, the waiter approached with a handsome couple, probably in their mid-forties, dressed for a formal dinner.
     
    “We hope it will be all right if we join you for dinner,” the handsome man said graciously.  “We hate to interrupt.”
     
    “Nonsense,” Joseph replied, rising from the table.  “We would be most delighted for you to join us.  Wouldn’t we, Leila?”
     
    Leila smiled and nodded.  She was disappointed but perhaps it would hasten the return to their compartment, she thought. 
     
    Marie, the woman, sat next to Leila, and they engaged in a banter of small talk about their respective hometowns and pursuits.  Tom, the handsome, George Clooney-esque man, sat next to Joseph, with both lovely women in his full-view.
     
    Leila was acutely aware of her wide-open cardigan.  When she glanced down after dripping butter from her lobster, she